Band On The Run

Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want

 

Even in my sleep I began to shift restlessly, rebelling against what I seemed to sense was coming. There was already a frown forming between my eyebrows. There was going to be a permanent wrinkle there soon enough.

The frustration, stress and anger had mingled with sadness, tears and days of sleeplessness. It was a volatile combination to be sure, especially when it came to me.

However when it came to both of us with mysterious absences and silence, it was nothing short of destructive. No, it was past that; it was destroying the house with axes only to burn down the remnants while they writhed in pain. And that didn’t even seem like enough. We’d always been a powder keg, ready to blow at any moment, and this was one of the thousands of times we were ready to explode.

Well, now we were dealing with the aftermath.

Had we detonated this afternoon in the studio? It would be fair enough with what had gone on; a shattered guitar, yelling, bruises, fists and tears before Seth had slammed out of there, declaring that he was done with us. And even though I’d followed him crying, trying desperately to tug on the handle of the car to go with him, he’d spun out of there, leaving me in the dingy street.

Or maybe it had happened when he didn’t come home until three in the morning. It also could have been when I threw my glass of wine against the wall, barely missing him and covering the lyrics I’d written there years before with an eerie sheen of red, glass shattered at the base.

Maybe it had happened all of those times.

Who knew?

If that was to be believed, then I would have to say we’d reached yet another explosion point as I threw a crunched up sheet of paper at him. Those words that we wrote to say to one another were now being thrown quite literally, but I still don’t think we heard them over the shouts.

One thing was sure; we’d reached the burning portion of the evening.

“If you want to ruin your life, go ahead,” I declared, shoving him back a step with my hands on his chest. “I’m fucking done.”

Oh, yes, we’d reached that part of the evening to be sure.

Not one to back down at any time let alone in the middle of a fight, Seth filled in the space I’d just pushed between us, leaving me to glare upwards at him. His eyes had reached a critically dark stage, flashing menacingly. I should have known enough to back off after all these years, but that wasn’t like me either.

“So that’s it, then?” he countered, his voice dropped low even as his eyes burnt with heat. “Nice to know it was that easy, Staub, see you around.”

Just as vicious as the uncaring response that he’d thrown in my face, I pushed him with all my might again, but it didn’t do much good, and I found myself smacking him with the heel of my hand, tears filling in my eyes.

It felt like psychological torture.

As a tear traced the curve of my cheek, I was shouting, “It’s better than waiting for you to show up in some alley with a needle sticking out of your arm. Little Seth Vaughn can’t even handle the brown,” I sneered, intending my words to cut as deeply as possible.

To stop my hands from pounding angrily against his chest, Seth gripped me by the wrists tightly, jerking me towards him. Before he had the chance to say another word, I yanked away from him, ignoring the pain that shot through my arms as I spun away from him, heading straight to the hallway with the bedroom in mind. I would. I’d grab my guitar and go this time. I’d actually do it. There would be no going to the warehouse tomorrow morning. This could be it. I needed to be done with this poisonous excuse of not only a relationship but a band.